


Like A Demure Victorian Woman

by joycecarolnotes



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Medical Kink, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 22:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13797498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joycecarolnotes/pseuds/joycecarolnotes
Summary: Hysteria, that's what it was called. A veritable textbook case. And the doctor had the cure for it.





	Like A Demure Victorian Woman

**Author's Note:**

> A brilliant anonymous person prompted this on tumblr. Yes, the title is from Zach Woods' wisdom tooth reaction video.

_From the diary of Mrs. J. D. Dunn, August 1880_

_Oh, but it is unbearable! This seemingly incurable woe that ails me. That sends me into fits of nervousness and exhaustion, beneath the weight of this oppressive summer heat. I fear I am leaving my dear husband unsatisfied, that our marital bed has gone frigid, that one day he will run off with someone younger, more giving, more generous than I, that he will never wish to return to me again. He says I have become a cold and distant woman. And yet I hunger for things sinful and deviant. Such unspeakable, abhorrent things!_

However silly Richard thought it was, Jared found that preparing a vibrant, fleshed-out character backstory - journaling, with an antique fountain pen no less, vision-boarding - helped him get more fully into the spirit of the thing. It was easier, he promised, to believe that he _was_ Mrs. J. D. Dunn, that their spare room _was_ a Victorian era doctor’s clinic, that his ankles _were_ hoisted up in primitive gynecological stirrups, and that Richard in point of fact _was_ actually the esteemed Dr. R. Hendricks, if he had all the rich details of Mrs. Dunn's interior life straight first. 

And besides, thought Jared, it was only the respectful way to treat a woman. 

Jared leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk in front of him. He watched as Richard adjusted his fake glasses, the stethoscope dangling on a chain around his neck. Whereas Jared spent weeks developing his character's interiority, Richard seemed to require some props and often a costume - something to focus on, draw attention to - as if the ease he felt in these situations was directly proportional to how little he looked or felt like himself.

"I'm anxious," Jared said. "Uneasy. I have trouble staying on top of the housework. You should see my home, doctor, it's a terrible, terrible wreck. Though I wouldn't dare do any entertaining! I'm distracted and listless in my ladies' weekly bridge group. And poor Judy and Richie - I'm so irritable, doctor - so exhausted all the time - I hardly have the energy to keep up with them!"

 _Those rascals_ , Jared thought. He smiled to himself, fondly, dreamily, at the thought of the children he'd invented. _Those adorable, mischievous little scamps_.

"How long have you been, ah, experiencing these - symptoms?"

"Oh for some time now."

Richard moved behind him. He told Jared to lean forward, and he pressed the stethoscope to his back, right up against the knurled spine beneath his pale blue, cashmere sweater. Both of them were aware, then, of Jared's ever-growing arousal. The rapid, telltale beating of his heart. 

"Have you been to see other physicians?"

"Oh many times. They've done nothing to help me. I've heard" - whatever scenario they were enacting, Richard always requested some version of this - "you are absolutely the best."

Richard grinned. "And how," he asked, "does your husband feel about this?"

"My husband? Well, Mr. Dunn doesn't know I'm here today, doctor. He's away on business." And as an aside, "he's an austere but charismatic railroad magnate, the darkly handsome type, you see."

"Yeah, okay, sure. But how does he feel about your, you know, condition?"

"He's displeased with me, of course. Oh!" Jared wailed with shame. "I'm so selfish, doctor. So terribly, unforgivably uncharitable. I know I'm not satisfying him, when we - when we - when we _lie together_. And yet I'm so disengaged, I can't bring myself to make a genuine effort. And, doctor." Here, Jared blushed. He swallowed. His eyes cast down to the floor in embarrassment. "Oh doctor. There's another symptom, but gosh in heaven, I'm ashamed to speak of it."

"Jar, er, Mrs. Dunn?" Richard hesitated there, waited for Jared's gentle nod of encouragement. "If you won't tell me your symptoms, then how can your treatment progress?"

Jared felt himself flush hot with shame, hot with arousal, thrilled at the humiliation accompanying the command that he confess. His eyes widened, fixated, as Richard moved to stand closer to him. So Jared could feel the heat, too, from his body. As Richard snapped a pair of rubber gloves on, and pulled them up around his wrists.

"Dreams," Jared spoke, at last. "Doctor. Fantasies. They are - forgive me - sexual in nature."

"And what, ah, about their content?"

"I dream," Jared said, "of a man - a _doctor_ \- taking me. Being used and abandoned. I dream he tears my bodice open and - " Jared touched his collarbone. "Oh goodness, doctor. I dream of being _ravished_ by him."

"Hmm," said Richard, and he ran one gloved finger down the side of Jared's face. Traced his jawline. 

"Please. Please help me, doctor. These dreams, they are an absolute torment."

"Mrs. Dunn," said Richard. And he smiled a little smugly, the way he always did when he arrived at an answer, and Jared delighted in that look upon his face. "I believe we have a diagnosis."

 _Hysteria_ , he explained. That was what it was: a veritable textbook case, a name to the source of all that trouble and torment. A fairly common condition, he said, thank heavens, so at least Mrs. Dunn was not entirely alone in it. And the doctor - so alluring in his knowledge, his assurance, his expertise, his confidence - promised there was a known and proven treatment. Something they could do together, if Mrs. Dunn was willing to try.

"First," said Richard, "I'm going to need you to undress for me."

"Oh dear," Jared exclaimed. He clicked his tongue in mock-admonishment. "Well, doctor, be a gentleman and turn around at least." He waited for Richard to do so before removing his clothes and setting them down on the floor neatly, imagining they were Mrs. Dunn's skirts, her pearls, her stockings, all of them imported from the finest shops in continental Europe, these delicate and extravagant things. Jared blushed at his own nakedness, from his cheeks to his chest, and further down his torso. Richard had seen his body before, of course, had known it and loved it well, in all its oddnesses and peculiarities, but something about this was different: Jared felt modest on behalf of Mrs. Dunn.

"You can turn around now," he whispered, and when Richard did, he looked at Jared with a wide-eyed, devoted sort of reverence. Eyes moving over Jared's body, as if he hungered for each deathly, alabaster inch of skin.

"You look," Richard breathed. He started to say more until Jared urged him, _please, doctor, be professional_. 

Jared sat back in the chair, as Richard had directed him. He rested his heels up on the edge of the desk, set his hands on the armrests, spread his legs. He felt deliciously vulnerable. Naked while Richard was clothed. At his lover's mercy. Richard could hurt him if he wanted to - he could be cruel, as others had before - but Jared trusted him enough to know he wouldn't. 

"Your knees," Richard said. "A little - little wider for me?" He crouched on the floor between them. "Yeah, yeah, that's it."

The treatment, he explained, was called _pelvic massage_. Would induce a state called _hysterical paroxysm_. It would feel a little strange, at first, but all the patient had to do was relax and breathe through it; the doctor would take care of the rest. 

Jared tipped his head back. He let his eyes fall shut, thought of the meditation techniques he'd learned on that corporate retreat in Lake Tahoe, and tried his best to relax as Richard prepared to penetrate him. It hadn't been hard, he thought, to play a character who was anxious, and exhausted, and frustrated all the time; Jared was in the process of negotiating new terms with one of Pied Piper's file storage clients, and he'd been fought every step of the way on it, and he hadn't had a good night's sleep in ages, and he and Richard had both been so busy, and self-care was always the first thing to be forgotten, and he was sorely in need of the promised release.

Richard coated his hand, first. Took a generous amount of lube and reached below, to spread it around the rim of Jared's opening. Jared gasped. It felt so good, so terribly good, being touched there. Jared's eyes flew open, locking on Richard's as he moved his fingers in slow, torturous circles, ever and ever closer to where Jared wanted and feared feeling them most. 

Jared moaned, desperate and licentious and wanton. "Oh doctor," he cried, "oh heavens, it feels good." He heard his own whimpers, his own sighs, his own mewls and gasps and yelps of pleasure as Richard rubbed three fingers over his tender butthole, and he clamped his hand over his mouth to quiet them, to protect Mrs. Dunn's precious modesty. 

"Nuh uh." Richard grabbed him by the wrist. He pulled Jared's hand down from his mouth, and set it back against the armrest. "Don't move your hands again. I wanna hear you. Alright? I need to - to collect the auditory da - data, to know if I'm doing the massage right."

Richard went back to it. He spread more lube over Jared's entrance, until he was so wet he was dripping, and Richard pressed the tip of one finger inside.

"Oh," Jared gasped. There was a moment of pain, of tearful stretching - _glasshole_ , he thought, wretchedly - but soon it was replaced with something far more complicated. Richard wriggled his finger in to the knuckle, and Jared's hips canted up off the desk chair. He felt a shock of humiliation at the feeling of Richard's finger inside his asshole. So unbelievably dirty. And an unrelenting pleasure just as great. 

Jared looked down at his own hardness, at how aroused Richard was making him, and he remembered this was supposed to be Mrs. Dunn's _medical_ treatment, and he felt a stab of guilt at the pleasure he took in it, half-desperate to hide himself, longing to cover his face.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't - "

"Shh. That's right," Richard cut him off, assuringly. "You need this, Jared. You're - you're sick, and this is the only thing that's gonna fix you. I'm gonna - gonna fuck those nasty dreams right out of you with my fingers. Yeah. Only I can give this to you, Jared - only I can - fuck - no one else can do this." 

"Only you, only you, yes," Jared panted. Too lost, already, to care what Richard called him, to mind if they deviated from the plans.

Richard inserted another finger, twisting and stretching them like something alive inside him. Jared cried out, his body tensing wildly, thrashing, as Richard pressed up against his sweetest, most sensitive place. 

_Too much_ , Jared thought. _I don't deserve this - don't deserve to feel so - so - so -_

"Relax." Richard placed a hand on Jared's chest, between his breasts, to hold him steady. Firmly, so he couldn't move away. 

"I'm trying," Jared sobbed, furious at himself for failing Richard, and far too turned on to do otherwise. 

"You work too hard, babe. Just relax and let me do this. Let me give you what you need. I'm gonna make you feel good."

It did feel good. So good. So good Jared was unsure whether he wanted to beg for more or less of it. "Oh doctor," he cried. His eyes were wet with tears. "Please stop. Please don't stop. Please. Right there. Please, mercy. I don't - I can't - I need - please let me - oh heavens, Richard, no more, please more, just - please."

"Yeah, that's it," Richard said. "The way you feel right now. Means the treatment's working. If you wanna be cured, you have to, uh, let it."

Jared reached up with one hand, pulled Richard's mouth down to meet his in a sloppy, desperate kiss. Richard gasped against his lips, then kissed him back, his fingers still moving inside him, massaging him relentlessly, all the world reduced to that single, fixed point. And Richard swallowed his cries, and he didn't stop kissing him, didn't stop touching him, until Jared - finally - found the coveted paroxysm, his vision shorting out, whole body pulsing, and he nearly passed out with the pleasure of it. His sweet, elusive, blessed release. 

"Oh doctor, I feel faint," said Jared, after, and he swooned right out of the desk chair, in relief and gratitude and exhaustion, like a delicate maiden, into Richard's eager arms. 

_From the diary of Mrs. J. D. Dunn, November 1880_

_Unwell again. Grateful to learn the esteemed Dr. R. Hendricks makes house calls._


End file.
